Churches lead effort to keep downtown Jacksonville alive

Wednesday

Dec 16, 2009 at 12:05 AM

Jeff Brumley

As the name suggests, Historic Mount Zion AME Church oozes history.

The Romanesque Revival architecture, with bell tower, parapet and fortress-like walls, is an homage to the past. The sanctuary, with ornate wooden pulpit, pipe organ and huge stained-glass windows, takes worshipers back to the days before hanging flat-screen TVs and stadium seating.

But while the Rev. Frederick D. Richardson Jr. is an old-school preacher, he's determined to make his downtown Jacksonville church relevant for another 143 years.

So he's adopted a modern outlook, attending meetings of Downtown Vision, a nonprofit dedicated to building a vibrant downtown. Fliers promoting lofts for rent at 11 E. Forsyth - a high-rise apartment building six blocks away - are handed out to worshipers.

In many ways, the future of Mount Zion AME hinges on a healthy downtown: If more people live, work, shop and dine in the city center, church membership - and tithing - are bound to grow, too.

"Hopefully, we can grow our congregation," Richardson said, "because there is a service to be given in the downtown area."

Other pastors agree. The dozen churches remaining downtown, led by 28,000-member First Baptist Church, are increasingly taking an active role in revitalization efforts - both to ensure their own survival and continue outreach efforts for the needy.

The churches have helped keep the core's pulse beating through decades of urban flight, said Paul Crawford, deputy director of the Jacksonville Economic Development Commission.

"They are setting the stage and the bar," he said. "Just like any good neighborhood, you have to have a good church presence."

Downtown churches are primed to play a key role in revitalization.

Together, they're one of the biggest property owners, occupying about 24 acres of the 1,171-acre core. They also draw about 821,000 visitors a year, said Terry Lorince , executive director of Downtown Vision.

Those numbers are generated not only by regular, twice-weekly worship services but by the conventions, revivals and other special events the churches host.

"That's a huge audience that is really good for downtown, and hoteliers will tell you the churches have been good for business down here," Lorince said.

Nationally, experts say churches are important partners for revitalization. In Raleigh, N.C., Nashville, Tenn., Houston and other inner cities enjoying rebounds, church groups have signed on to support those efforts. Some have invested in educational and residential development. Others have rallied their congregations to volunteer for downtown projects.

Historic churches are interesting to look at, adding to downtown aesthetics, but they also offer built-in meeting space, a ready-made volunteer force and civic leadership.

In Jacksonville, religious groups are heavily involved in downtown strategic planning with businesses and city government, according to Mayor John Peyton. They're helping with cleanup efforts, providing food and clothing for the needy, and hosting concerts and other activities.

St. John's Episcopal Cathedral has taken it further than most, investing in residential development. The church collaborated with the city in 2000 to develop the Parks at Cathedral townhouses. The city kicked in $3.4 million for the project, which included creation of a small park just north of the cathedral.

"Their presence," Peyton said of the churches, "adds to a relevant downtown."

First Baptist looks outward

It's 4:30 p.m., the first Wednesday in November. Hemming Plaza is abuzz with artists setting up displays for Art Walk.

Ignoring all that activity are three teenagers from First Baptist Church. They stand in a quiet corner, eyes fixed on two middle-aged men sitting on a bench. They introduce themselves, asking the strangers if they believe in Christ.

Turns out Willy Young and Ferman Hough do. It also turns out that Young is homeless, and Hough recently got off the streets.

With the teens, they hold hands and pray, asking God to find Young a home and provide Hough needed comfort.

Afterward, the men say they felt uplifted by their impromptu encounter with Glenn Milton, Christopher Davis and Matt Malone.

"God comes in different packages," Young, who's African-American, said of the white teens.

Ministering to street people and collecting trash downtown weren't on the megachurch's radar until Pastor Mac Brunson arrived 3½ years ago. Now, for the first time in memory, First Baptist is looking outward.

"Brunson has come in and tried to bring in this outreach thing to show the world the light," Milton said.

"It's a different philosophy," said Stephen Wise, a state senator who worships at First Baptist. "If you're going to attract young people, you have to let them feel they have some social responsibility."

Brunson's predecessor, the Rev. Jerry Vines, acknowledged in a recent interview that the church could have done more for the downtown community during his 23 years in the pulpit.

"We were more focused internally," he said.

Vines said the church sometimes opposed the issuing of alcohol licenses for businesses close to the church campus, though he couldn't recall specific instances. First Baptist contacted City Hall directly in 2005, when a Super Bowl-related beer garden was proposed near the church's children's ministry. The event was moved to a different location.

But contrary to popular belief, Vines said church leaders didn't wage active campaigns against downtown bars or clubs, or try to stifle the core's economic growth.

Downtown advocates agree. There's "zero evidence" the church has tried to slow or blunt development, said Tony Allegretti, owner of the Burrito Gallery, a popular eatery and night spot.

"There are a ton of troubles" facing downtown businesses, he said. "First Baptist isn't one of them."

No downtown church, for instance, opposed the 2004 liquor license request for Burrito Gallery, located about five blocks from First Baptist. The churches also never opposed Art Walk, a popular downtown festival held the first Wednesday of each month that features alcohol venues.

"That's a church night," Allegretti said. "If it was their intention to be against downtown [nightlife], they would have jumped on that one."

A busy congregation

First Baptist doesn't have any major development plans on tap, city officials say, but the church has the power to shape a chunk of downtown, owning properties that span 11 blocks, including four parking garages.

The church is a major employer, with 330 full- and part-time employees, and an annual operating budget of nearly $13 million. Attendance at Sunday services averages 7,500, and the church's annual conferences, including its Pastors Conference, are major draws.

This year, the church began attracting even more people with its new First Baptist Academy, a K-12 college prep school.

Peyton hails the school as a boon to downtown, bringing in students and parents on a daily basis and potentially boosting patronage of the city's museums and main library.

The church has also allied with other faith-based social-service agencies downtown, said Jill Black, a Salvation Army spokeswoman. "They produce videos and come to see what our needs are down here and ask, 'What can we do?' "

Brunson, who declined repeated requests for interviews about downtown, is leading the way for church involvement downtown, said the Rev. Sonny Stroud, minister of music at First Presbyterian Church.

"Mac Brunson really has … set a standard for all of us," he said.

Bridging major divides

It's just past 6:30 a.m. on a Thursday as eight men sit around a table in the basement of First Presbyterian. In front of them are devotionals and a box of doughnuts. The coffee is flowing.

Some of the other men share their views, and then it's Paul Eames' turn.

"When the spirit moves inside you, that's all the assurance you need," said Eames, who was homeless when he started attending the weekly men's Bible study about a year ago.

A white veterinarian with a family talking Scripture and salvation with an African-American former crack addict isn't the stereotypical church scene. But given the East Monroe Street church's proximity to both homeless shelters and upscale residential high-rises, it's becoming increasingly common at First Presbyterian and other downtown churches, members and ministers say.

"We've got millionaires and we've got the down-and-out," Stroud, the music minister, said. "And when they come in here, they're all one family."

Eames, 44, admitted First Presbyterian didn't seem like his kind of place at first. The Gothic architecture, stained glass and towering steeple were imposing. The people at Bible study also gave him pause.

"I saw all these white men and I said, 'Uhhhhh,' " said Eames, who was skeptical that a group of older, richer white men could understand a recovering addict. But there was a spiritual vibe powerful enough to bridge all divides.

"This feeling came over me - I can't put it into words," he said. "It was an epiphany, I guess, that it was all about praising the Lord and not about me being black or the crack."

Offering needed services

The homily about God using ordinary people to do extraordinary things lasted two minutes. The sign of peace, collection and Eucharist took only 12. The weekday, noontime Mass at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church is designed to offer a quick spiritual pick-me-up for time-pressed people who live and work downtown.

Even a 30-minute service can provide a huge spiritual boost, says Harry Oulundsen , who works a couple of miles away at Swisher International and attends the Mass twice a week.

"It's a wonderful way to break up the day," he said. God "understands we're all on our lunch breaks and we have to get something to eat and get back to work."

Tailoring a service to a specific demographic - busy employees, in this case - demonstrates the role churches have had in downtown's survival and why their presence is vital to revitalization efforts.

Just think, Corrie Johnson-Thompson says, how much worse downtown would be without First Baptist and the other congregations that hung on throughout the bad times.

"If the churches had left, downtown would truly die," she said, noting that churchgoers are practically the only people you see downtown on Sundays.

She recalls better times, for sure.

Johnson-Thompson, 67, grew up near her church, Mount Zion AME, when the streets around it were thriving, with ample stores and restaurants. Today, the sanctuary built for 700 sees just 200 on Sundays.

She makes the 45-minute drive from Orange Park several times a week, and is pained to see vagrants hanging around.

"We cannot have anything at the church where we do not have to have security around us," she said. "It's a tremendous change for me to see burglar bars on the church windows. "

That's one reason why Johnson-Thompson's pastor and other downtown ministers are getting more involved with revitalization. They have the interests of parishioners in mind, and want to ensure the urban core evolves in a humane manner.

Said Stroud: "We would love to be one of the churches that God uses to bring downtown alive."

jeff.brumley@jacksonville.com, (904) 359-4310

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